Exam Week – it's way worse for the parents

It’s been a bit of a stressy week – the dreaded exam week. I am exhausted having ‘virtually’ revised for and sat over 25 papers. Thankfully the boys (13 and 14) were totally unphased by the whole event – probably because I was there in spirit doing all the hard stuff.

I feel as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, knowing that today is the last day. No more pressure. Wish I could be as cool as our kids. It’s the way we were brought up: to study hard, be on the ball, cover the angles, go to bed early, do practise papers. You remember those days, don't you?

It is different nowadays. The kids seem more relaxed. It’s no big deal. Of course, we have gently encouraged revision, in line with booklets from the school. So their laid back approach must be down to our adopted parenting skills (when we remember!). And I am glad the boys are laid back. It is so easy to take it all too seriously. I am going to take a leaf out of their book when exam week comes round again.

Multi-tasking men

We do give them a bit of grief, really, don’t we – you know – on the issue of multi-tasking. But I will think twice next time I am tempted.

We have a house rule – rooms to be tidied, once a week – for inspection on Thursday morning. Our definition of tidy: Mum can see the floor throughout; bed made; possibly some clothes on chair, others folded and put away or in linen basket; bits and bobs under bed or in cupboard.

I knocked on our teenager B’s door on Wednesday evening to give him the heads up about his room. When I went in he was doing his sit-ups (I think he does a mere 100 or so!). I had to take a second look to fully understand the whole situation: he was folding his clothes while he was doing his sit-ups! How cool is that? This young man can definitely multi-task.

Sleepy head

This morning we had a lovely example of sleepy teenage syndrome (our own terminology – well I haven’t checked it out so maybe others also refer to it as that!). Despite having already been woken once, D was sound asleep again. And it was ten to eight. So I was a little more persistent the second time round and left him making his bed (rather grandiose way of saying ‘spread out the duvet nicely and lay the other blanket on top’). At 8 o’clock D still hadn’t appeared for his rice crispies, so I ventured back up stairs. There he was, sound asleep, snug as a bug, in his freshly made, beautifully straightened out bed!

Explosive stuff

We had to put the gas fire back on last week in the evenings as it was a tad too chilly for our liking. D (age 12) lounged in front of the fire (more like a cat than an kid) and suddenly asked, ‘Do you think you can really ignite a fart?’ Pregnant (no we are not really!) pause from parents and then Dad stumped up with, ‘Probably, but could be painful.’ The moment passed and then a few days later while on ‘Youth Club Duty’, there was an awkward moment with the older kids. I decided to ease the tension with D’s innocent question, assuming that boys of that sort of age probably had thoughts on the matter.

‘Actually, you can!’ claimed one chap cheerily (17 years). ‘My mate said he was going to let one go. We wondered if it would ignite, so my other mate (all mysteriously nameless!) put a lighter to it. Man, it just went up, big purple flame and the back draft went right back up his butt. You could smell the pub hair burning. He was really hurting. It was awesome.’

We are still in two minds as to whether or not we should share this with D.

Accessability for dyslexics

If you are not dyslexic and you don't know someone who is, it is difficult to fully appreciate the challenges facing them. And it can feel sometimes that the 'dyslexia excuse' is being thrown around too freely. So let me share this with you, it may help.

My 12 year old son was diagnosed with dyslexia at 6 1/2 years and has had much support and encouragement. He explained that he had to complete some revision on a special school website. (Great, I said to myself - revision!!) Later that evening I asked him how it went. He shrugged his shoulders, 'I couldn't get on the website.' I asked him why. 'I must have the wrong password.' Little bells were sounding in my head. 'What is the password?' I asked and he told me it was 'compass'. 'How did you spell it?' I asked. 'Well, I tried 'cumpus' and then 'cumpas' and it doesn't work.' He paused. 'I guess I'm spelling it wrong, eh?'

I am sure at some stage this password was provided to the class in written format. But with the passage of time... It's tough being dyslexic. We were just pleased that at least he tried twice, and we then bemoaned together, once again, the idiosyncrasies of the English language.

Moon landing was a shambles

Over the years we have enjoyed D's (now 12 years old) manipulation of the English language. A couple of expressions are particularly memorable: his 'flutterbies" for butterflies and his 'provisional vision' for peripheral vision - they tickled us pink. However, I think he has topped those. The school organised a 'Space Day' where the kids flew in simulators, talked to astronomers and discussed space milestones in detail. When he came home he said forthrightly, 'Did you know that the moon landing was a shambles?' Well, I thought , in fairness, logistically speaking, it was an operation of incredible magnitude requiring timing and perseverance. Then hubbie piped up, smiling, 'You mean it was a sham, though that was a shambles too!' Here is a link to the 'moon landing sham evidence'. The subject provided a lovely conversation in our house. Your children might be interested in this - discover it together.

We are all special

Our wonderful yoga instructor shared this with us: enjoy! - children will love it too!

A Chinese woman fetches water every day. She carries two large water jugs hanging from either side of a pole balanced on her neck. She walks a long way to fetch the water. She fills both jugs to the top and then carries them home. There is a crack in one of the water jugs and every day she arrives home with only one and a half jugs of water. She has been doing this for two years.

The cracked jug is sad because he can not carry as much water as the other jug. So one day he speaks to the woman while she is filling the jugs. 'Why do you fill me up every day and carry me home, only for me to arrive half full?'

The woman smiled. 'Haven't you noticed the beautiful flowers on your side of the path when we walk home? When I saw that you were cracked, I planted some seeds along the path. You water them every day. And for a long time now, I have picked the flowers. You have brought us the beautiful, sweet-scented flowers that grace our home.' And the jug felt proud and happy.